


my song has not been sung

by suspendrs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Strangers, and harry is intrigued, basically louis is Super Gay, but what else is new, protest, rally, this is so short why do i bother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:51:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9431483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suspendrs/pseuds/suspendrs
Summary: The boy looks completely in his element, wrapped in a rainbow flag with pink paint smeared across his face. He’s jumping and twirling through the street, tossing handfuls of glitter on bystanders, screaming his heart out and clearly loving every second of it. He’s everything Harry was hoping to capture on film.Or, Harry is watching a protest from the sidelines until a boy with a rainbow flag and a pretty smile drags him right into the middle of it.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [my song has not been sung](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10096946) by [malishka1011](https://archiveofourown.org/users/malishka1011/pseuds/malishka1011)



> me: i'm taking a hiatus from fic  
> me to me: write a larry fic about a protest and make it rly short and don't have anyone beta it
> 
> anyway. this was inspired by some of the rallies i've been to in the past few days. i wrote this literally ten minutes ago so if you find any mistakes i'm sorry 
> 
> title is from The Reckless and the Brave by All Time Low

The buzz of anticipation is heavy in the air, weighing down on Harry’s heart and making his blood pump thick through his veins. His fingers shake a little with excitement as he checks the battery in his camera again, wiping the lense with the hem of his shirt and then letting it rest gently against his sternum, the strap pulling taut against the back of his neck as it supports the camera’s weight.

He hoists himself up to sit atop one of the metal barriers set up along the route of the march, making sure his drawstring backpack is secure on his shoulders and picking up his camera again. He gets a few shots of the empty street, the few stragglers decked out in face paint and wielding homemade signs running to catch up with the rest of the protesters congregated in the park. The march is set to start any moment now, both police and curious onlookers dotted along the sidewalks. Harry feels like he’s witnessing the quiet before the storm, checking his camera battery once more.

There are protests scheduled all week. The women’s marches around the world were incredible, but people aren’t done yet, and Harry’s right there with them. He won’t be in the protest, though, it’s not really his thing. He loves what they’re doing, though, loves what they stand for, and he wants to help in the only way he knows how: taking photos.

He jumps when the chanting starts, camera poised and aimed down the street where the protesters are pouring out from the park onto the empty street. Someone with a bullhorn is yelling something Harry can’t really understand, but every time she quiets, the crowd roars in response.

He snaps a few photos as they approach, trying to capture the sheer volume of them. There are at least a thousand people, maybe multiple thousands, many of them waving signs above their heads. _Dump Trump!_ one of them reads, shortly followed by a simple _FUCK DONALD TRUMP_. Harry snaps photos of the ones that catch his eye, getting a few thumbs up aimed at his camera and a lot of passionate, wild looking faces. Most of them are walking, some running and skipping, carrying friends on their shoulders or holding the hand of a sign-bearing child. There’s so many of them, Harry can’t get enough.

He gives a few small shouts of encouragement to the signs he really likes, getting mostly screams in return. They’re all chanting something that Harry is too worked up to make out, and a little girl holding a sign that says _My Body My Choice_ dances by with a smile so bright Harry can’t help but snap a picture. He starts filming when the protest starts getting bigger, the mass of people swelling in the streets.

A few people have bullhorns, starting up a new chant every time the previous one dies out. Harry is absolutely enthralled by it, focusing his camera on the people screaming into their megaphones, capturing the light in their eyes when the crowd roars back at them.

He’s watching through the lense of his camera, face twisted into a small smile, when something catches his eye. He looks up to find it in the crowd, eyes settling on someone showering glitter over the parade. Harry grins and zooms in, capturing the boy’s face when the person in front of him finally moves away.

The boy looks completely in his element, wrapped in a rainbow flag with pink paint smeared across his face. He’s jumping and twirling through the street, tossing handfuls of glitter on bystanders, screaming his heart out and clearly loving every second of it. He’s everything Harry was hoping to capture on film.

Harry slips down off the barrier and keeps his camera focused on the boy, moving along with the crowd and being careful not to step on any onlookers. The boy, Rainbow Boy, as Harry’s deemed him in his head, doesn’t seem to notice the attention. He hands his shopping bag of glitter off to a group of girls without a sign or anything to hold, and continues dancing through the street, clapping his hands to the beat of the chant. Harry trips over someone and mutters his apology, eyes locked on the Rainbow Boy through the lense of his camera.

Harry follows the march for about two minutes before he loses Rainbow Boy in the crowd, and he frowns as he jogs a little to try and find a new angle. When he catches sight of him again, he’s somehow acquired a bullhorn, and is screaming into it. He’s quite small, shorter than most people in the crowd, but he takes control effortlessly, demanding into his bullhorn: “Show me what democracy looks like!”

“ _This is what democracy looks like!_ ” the crowd fires back, planting a grin onto Rainbow Boy’s face. 

“Show me what democracy looks like!” he demands again, pulling his flag from where it’s tied around his neck and holding it over his head to let it flap in the wind.

“ _This is what democracy looks like!_ ”

Harry laughs breathlessly, zooming in on Rainbow Boy’s face. He’s beautiful and sharp, glitter painted onto his cheekbones and in his eyelashes. His hair is a mess from all the running and dancing and there’s probably a handful worth of glitter stuck in it, but it’s caramel colored and looks so soft Harry almost wants to join the march just to touch it.

“No Trump,” Rainbow Boy bellows into his bullhorn, the crowd around him joining in immediately, “no KKK, no fascist USA!”

Harry finds himself mumbling the chant along with them, zooming out from where he’s still focused on Rainbow Boy and trying to get some shots of the rest of the protesters. When he inevitably focuses back Rainbow Boy seems to have spotted him, and he gets a blinding grin in the lense of his camera.

If the boy was performing at a 10 previously, he kicks it up to at least 20 once he knows he has a camera on him. He downright screeches into the megaphone and the crowd somehow swells louder and bigger, nearly swallowing Rainbow Boy up and out of Harry’s view. 

Harry steps up onto a brick wall which separates the sidewalk from a restaurant's outdoor seating, getting something of an aerial shot of the protesters. Rainbow Boy keeps smiling up at him, aiming his bullhorn directly at his camera, chanting just for him.

The brick wall ends after a few feet and Harry gets a bit tripped up trying to step down, weaving through bystanders and onlookers and trying to catch up with Rainbow Boy and the rest of the protesters. When he finally breaks back onto the sidewalk, Rainbow Boy is nowhere to be seen, though Harry can hear him shouting into his bullhorn further up the street. The protesters turn a corner and Harry is hopeless to catch up, slowing to a meandering walk and filming as the march goes past him.

He stops filming after a bit, clicking over to review what he’s gotten. He keeps walking with the protesters as he looks at the stills he got of Rainbow Boy, thrilled with how they came out.

He doesn’t notice the sound of someone screaming coming toward him, but when he looks up, there’s a bullhorn aimed right at his face. He snaps a picture and then the person lowers it, Rainbow Boy peeking out at him from over the top of it.

“Keep up!” he grins, reaching for Harry’s hand. 

Harry blinks at him and lets him take his hand, and then suddenly they’re running, weaving through the protesters until they’re right in the thick of it.

“The people, united, will never be defeated!” Rainbow Boy bellows into his bullhorn, glancing over at Harry as the crowd picks up the chant, carrying on and on and on. Harry aims his camera at him and snaps a picture, and then another of his resulting smile. Rainbow Boy laughs and skips ahead through a gap in the protesters, and Harry scrambles to follow him.

“Hey hey, ho ho, Donald Trump has got to go!” he sings, turning around to find Harry filming him again. He shouts it at the camera without the megaphone, looking fierce and powerful and inspired. Harry feels invincible just standing next to him, he can only imagine how good Rainbow Boy is feeling.

Harry turns away to snap some more pictures of the other protesters, capturing some more good signs. _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun-Damental Rights_ , one reads, and another, _Love Trumps Hate!_

He gets a few more excellent shots before a hand pulls his camera back, and he sees Rainbow Boy smiling at him through the lense. Rainbow Boy pushes the camera away altogether, then, and Harry lets it fall against his chest without a second thought.

“We’re marching!” Rainbow Boy shouts at him, reaching up to tie his flag around Harry’s neck like a cape. “So march!”

Harry just laughs and nods, and Rainbow Boy takes his hand again while he raises the bullhorn to his mouth. 

“Her body, her choice!” he demands, waiting a few beats before he chants it again. The girls around them pick up the empty space, chanting “ _my body, my choice_!” Rainbow Boy lowers his bullhorn and shouts with the other guys in the crowd, encouraging Harry to do the same.

Harry feels like he’s flying, feels weightless, untouchable. He feels so powerful, the double yellow line of the street beneath his boots, the protesters stretching out for miles ahead and behind him. He screams the chants along with the crowd, earning a pair of crinkly blue eyes and a blinding smile from Rainbow Boy in return.

They march for about a mile, chanting and yelling and dragging onlookers into the mass. Rainbow Boy holds his hand until the march finally disperses, the police directing the protesters through the barricades and back to where they came from. Rainbow Boy holds tight to Harry’s hand and guides him through the barricades until they’re on a stretch of mostly empty sidewalk, chattering protesters filtering out around them.

“Hi,” Rainbow Boy says, dropping Harry’s hand and looking up at him.

“Hi,” Harry says back, feeling himself blush. 

“Did you get any good shots?” Rainbow Boy asks, nodding at his camera. Harry nods, picking up his camera to flick through his photos, angling so Rainbow Boy can see as well.

“They’re mostly of you,” Harry chuckles awkwardly, shrugging one shoulder. “You were so passionate, exactly the shot I was looking for.”

“Do you work for a newspaper or something?” Rainbow Boy asks, looking up at him. His cheeks are flushed, but Harry can’t tell if it’s from the march or from something else.

“No,” Harry shrugs. “Just really like taking pictures.”

“You’re great at it,” Rainbow Boy says, voice quiet. Harry can detect a hint of a rasp from all of the shouting. “I’m Louis.”

“Thank you,” Harry grins, putting his camera down again. “Harry.”

“Harry,” Louis hums, voice breaking a little. “Sorry, voice is going. Lot of yelling,” he chuckles.

Harry smiles, watching him for a moment, and then reaches out to dust a piece of glitter off of Louis’s forehead where it’s bound to fall into his eye at any moment. “Tea. Tea helps,” he advises, blushing when Louis grins up at him.

“Know anywhere good for tea?” he asks, shaking some glitter out of his hair with his hand and wiping it on Harry’s arm.

“There’s a place just down this road, actually, near the corner,” Harry says, pointing it out. Louis doesn’t follow his gaze, still staring intently at his face. “Um… I could take you there?”

“Yes,” Louis hums simply, grabbing his hand again. 

Harry bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide and lets Louis lead him down the sidewalk, stepping over discarded signs and other debris from the march. It looks like a battlefield of people trying to fight for their rights, and he supposes that’s exactly what it is.

He buys Louis’s tea and they sit by the window, flicking through some more of Harry’s photos. Harry leaves the cafe with a flyer for a Black Lives Matter march next week that has Louis’s phone number scribbled on the back of it, and a date to make posters with Louis so they’ll be ready for it.

It isn’t until he gets home that he realizes he still has Louis’s flag tied around his neck. He drapes it over his couch and sends a picture of it to Louis, after he taps his number into his phone. 

Louis responds with a simple _you can keep it, i’ve got loads more ;)_

Harry thinks he might be the one.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! 
> 
> if you liked the fic, you can reblog it [here](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/post/156581050007/fukcinglouis-my-song-has-not-been-sung-by), or you can [buy me a coffee](http://ko-fi.com/alyvia) :)
> 
> [faq](http://suspendrs-fics.tumblr.com/faq)


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